


The Woman Without Fear

by AcesOfSpade



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: A little bit of fluff I guess?, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, F/M, Female!Matt, Marriage Proposal, So much angst, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 07:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcesOfSpade/pseuds/AcesOfSpade
Summary: (also known as 'I'm terrible with titles')It’s been said that Hell’s Kitchen should watch out for the Murdock boys, ‘cause they’ve got the Devil in them. No one warned Hell’s Kitchen about Matilyn.As the daughter of Hell’s Kitchen’s own Battlin’ Jack Murdock, Matilyn was expected to be nothing like her father. After all, the people around her reasoned, she was a girl, she wasn’t going to be a boxer or anything. Looking back, Matilyn scoffs audibly at those people, how wrong they were.





	The Woman Without Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Well damn this got away from me. I'll write and post the second part asap. But anyway, have some suffering.

It’s been said that Hell’s Kitchen should watch out for the Murdock boys, ‘cause they’ve got the Devil in them. No one warned Hell’s Kitchen about Matilyn.

 

As the daughter of Hell’s Kitchen’s own Battlin’ Jack Murdock, Matilyn was expected to be nothing like her father. After all, the people around her reasoned, she was a _girl_ , she wasn’t going to be a boxer or anything. Looking back, Matilyn scoffs audibly at those people, how wrong they were.

 

At eight years old, Matilyn’s life took a drastic turn. She’d been out with her Dad when she saw a car speeding towards a truck carrying large barrels, with an elderly man directly in the car’s path. The split-second decision Matilyn made would change her life, right then and there. She launched herself into the car’s path, knocking the old man out of harm’s way. She managed to dodge the car at the last second, but it still collided with the truck, spilling the contents of the barrels onto the ground, and into Matilyn’s eyes. The last thing she remembers ever seeing is the look of absolute terror and panic on her Dad’s face as the world faded to black.

 

Losing her father had destroyed Matilyn. St. Agnes’ was a living Hell, especially as her senses began to develop. Many nights were spent sleepless, hands clasped over her ears to block out the noise. The nuns were concerned for her, fearing that she was possessed by some sort of demon with the way she thrashed around at night, crying out in what they could only assume was pain. They didn’t know what to do, until they came across Stick.

 

Stick was the exact _opposite_ of what Matilyn needed in her life. She needed a caring parental figure to help her understand what was going on, not a calloused drill sergeant who wanted to train her to fight something huge. She still looked to Stick as a father-figure, having no one else in her life to fill the role. That showed just how desperate she was for proper affection, as Stick always left her humiliated, bruised, and exhausted from all of his training. Parting ways with him was a blessing in disguise, even if she still didn’t know how to handle her new senses.

 

Throughout high school, Matilyn was suffocated by the amount of _pity_ she was surrounded by. She could hear it in the voices of her teachers whenever she was given a new Braille textbook, could hear it in the voices of the students who offered to guide her around the school so she wouldn’t trip or run into something. Graduation was her saving grace, opening her horizons to something more than pity.

 

All of the struggles of her past led Matilyn to where she was standing now, in the doorway of dorm 312 at Columbia, an uneasy smile on her face as she took a quick sniff of the room. Definitely inhabited by a male, one who somewhat regularly smoked weed if the smell was anything to go by. He seemed nice enough though, which Matilyn was grateful for. He didn’t seem to pity her, which was nice.

 

“Hey, aren’t you the one who saved that old man in Hell’s Kitchen?” her roommate, Foggy Nelson, asked with a slight frown she could hear in his voice. “Or am I being a complete asshole and mixing you up with another blind chick from back home?” he added quickly.

 

“No, no,” Matilyn assured him, “that was me.”

 

“Oh, that’s so cool!” Foggy grinned.

 

“If you say so,” Matilyn shrugged, placing her bag on the empty bed she was directed to. She’d get used to the smell, she decided, because Foggy seemed nice enough.

 

As her first semester progressed, Matilyn felt more comfortable around Foggy. She wasn’t uncomfortable changing around him anymore, figuring it was a thing friends did, regardless of gender. She was more relaxed around him too, letting him see the side of her she hadn’t showed anyone since her Dad died. Foggy became her best friend by the end of their first semester.

 

When Matilyn met Elektra Natchios, her university career was effectively put on hold to spend time beating people up alongside the Greek pseudo-ninja. She rarely went to class, with Foggy covering for her despite not knowing where she was. Foggy was beginning to worry about her, but he feared if he brought it up, she’d dismiss him. So, it went on like that until summer came, when Matilyn stopped sneaking off with Elektra entirely. Foggy didn’t dare ask her what happened, though she seemed extremely shaken the day she came back and declared to Foggy that she would no longer be sneaking off and ditching class. Foggy could’ve sworn she had blood under the collar of her shirt and around her knuckles, but he didn’t say anything. What had she and Elektra been _doing_?

 

The next few years flew by, most of it a blur for Matilyn. She focused on her studies more intently, getting into actual verbal fights with professors that wouldn’t supply her the textbooks she needed. She won, every single time, which made Foggy realize she was going to be a Hell of a lawyer some day.

 

Interning for Landman and Zack was the absolute worst. It was soul-sucking and dehumanizing, turning Matilyn’s thirst for justice into a burning hatred of the legal system. She and Foggy were made for better firms, ones that didn’t give them the shitty, uninteresting cases. They were settling petty civil disputes, like custody of a parrot one time. Leaving had been a big risk for them, but they did, and there was no going back.

 

Somehow, as if by the hand of God Himself, Matilyn finally told Foggy how she felt the night before their first client came into their lives. Foggy told Matilyn he felt the same, and their relationship started then. Matilyn felt awful for keeping secrets from Foggy, but she knew she had to, to keep him safe.

 

When Karen Page entered the picture at Nelson and Murdock, Matilyn didn’t know how to feel. Yes, Foggy was with her, but she couldn’t help but notice how fast his heartbeat got whenever he talked to Karen about anything other than work. A pit settled in her chest the longer it went on, which blossomed into full-blown anxiety. Was Foggy attracted to Karen? Was he still attracted to Matilyn? His heartbeat was calm and even around Matilyn, like it always had been. It’d never done what it did for Karen for Matilyn, and that hurt Matilyn in a way she couldn’t explain.

 

Matilyn’s anxiety only ate away at her more with every passing day. She pretended she was alright, plastered a smile on her face for clients, and just tried to project an air of peace around Foggy. She didn’t stop being affectionate with him, if anything being more affectionate, which she should’ve realized would end badly for her.

 

Matilyn threw herself into the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. She’d started this whole thing to help the little girl down the street, but it spiralled out of control when Union Allied came into the picture. After that, she found herself working towards a ‘proper’ enemy, the Kingpin of Crime in Hell’s Kitchen. She was merciless in tracking down information, which was how she ended up in this God-forsaken dumpster.

 

Waking up in a strange place sent a wave of panic through Matilyn. All she could smell was medical antiseptic, but she knew she wasn’t in the hospital. It was too warm and whatever she was lying on was too soft.

 

“Where... where am I?” Matilyn managed to gasp out, realizing she had broken at _least_ two ribs, and bruised a third. There were gloved hands inspecting a wound on her side, though they froze when she spoke.

 

“Oh good, you’re awake,” a noticeably feminine voice declared. “You’re in my apartment. I found you half-dead in a dumpster,” she said flatly. “Care to explain why a severely beaten woman in black ended up in my dumpster?”

 

“You’re not safe,” Matilyn said suddenly, trying to pull herself into a sitting position, but the woman stopped her. “There’s a man, three floors down. He’s looking for someone, probably me. He’s pretending to be a cop. He’ll be up here soon. Tell him you haven’t seen the person he wants.”

 

The woman frowned, though Matilyn couldn’t tell. “How do you know that?” she asked, then shook her head. “Nevermind. Priority One is to stitch up this gash on your side.”

 

“No,” Matilyn snapped sharply. “I can’t be here. You’ll get hurt.”

 

“Well, too late pal,” the woman all but snorted, just as someone knocked on her apartment door. She tensed, carefully ushering Matilyn into a spot in the room she wouldn’t be seen from the doorway.

 

“Hello?” the woman greeted whoever was on the other side of the door.

 

“Have you seen someone running around in a black mask?” the man asked, voice even and steely.

 

“Can’t say I have, no,” the woman shook her head. She was handed something, probably a business card by the sound of the paper.

 

“Call me if you do,” the man said sharply, turning to leave. The woman closed the door, rushing back over to Matilyn.

 

“What the Hell was that about?” she hissed. “Who _are_ you?”

 

“Just someone trying to protect the city,” Matilyn ground out through the sharp pain in her chest.

 

“Oh, so you’re trying to tell me a good samaratin in black ended up in my dumpster because she was _protecting the city_ ,” the woman said increducously. “Do you have a name at least?”

 

“No,” Matilyn said evenly. “It’s enough of a risk that you’ve seen me. I really should get out of here.” With that, Matilyn pulled herself to her feet, despite the woman’s protests, making her way to the window.

 

“My name’s Claire, by the way,” the woman sighed. “In case you ever need patching up again.”

 

With a sharp nod, Matilyn ducked out the window, disappearing into the night so she could return to her apartment.

* * *

Claire became a fixture in Matilyn’s life, despite her protests at being helped. Matilyn ended up getting a burner phone to call Claire when she needed help, just to make sure no one was there before she dropped in.

 

Sometimes though, Matilyn didn’t make it to Claire. Like now. Instead, she was sprawled across her apartment floor, half-passed out and bleeding heavily.

 

Foggy, ever the man for horrible timing, had used the spare key Matilyn had given him to let himself in, wanting to surprise her with dinner. Instead, he found her passed out on the floor surrounded by a puddle of blood and wearing the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s clothes. His blood ran cold, but he got her onto the couch anyway.

 

Carefully peeling off the black shirt, jeans, and mask let Foggy get a good idea of how bad she was injured. There were numerous knife wounds across her chest and stomach, as well as a long gash down her left thigh. Doing everything he could, Foggy stopped the bleeding. At some point, Matilyn roused from her stupor long enough to mumble something about someone named Claire before passing out again.

 

Foggy found the burner phone in Matilyn’s pocket, assuming Claire’s was the only number on it. Indeed, the woman who answered the phone was Claire, and she walked Foggy through how to stabalize Matilyn and stitch her up.

 

An hour after hanging up, Foggy heard Matilyn groan and try to move. He went to kneel next to the couch, running a hand through his hair.

 

“Stay there,” he said, a little too sharply. “Your nurse friend Claire thinks you’ve got some broken bones.”

 

When Matilyn realized where she was, her body went rigid. She wasn’t at Claire’s, and that wasn’t Claire yelling at her for being reckless. She was _home_ , and that was _Foggy_. She must’ve made some kind of noise or action, because Foggy scoffed dryly.

 

“Were you ever going to tell me, Mattie?” he asked softly, bitterly even. “Or were you going to wait ‘til you ended up in the morgue, and I had to identify your body?”

 

“Foggy...” Matilyn croaked, wanting to reach out and touch him but knowing she probably shouldn’t. “I-I wanted to, I promise,” she mumbled. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.” Her voice was so small, scared even. Foggy had never heard her sound like that, but that didn’t make him any less upset.

 

“Oh, but you told some random nurse lady?” he scoffed again.

 

“I didn’t mean to. She found me in a dumpster,” Matilyn admitted softly, closing her eyes again.

 

“She _what_?” Foggy hissed, running his hand through his hair again. “Do you have any idea how _stupid_ you are? You could get arrested, or killed! What then? If you got arrested, I’d have to testify. We aren’t married. Do you have any idea how much it would hurt to testify against you?” he rambled, voice somewhere between angry and defeated.

 

“I never wanted this to happen the way it did,” Matilyn muttered. “It was an accident, then it became... addicting. It’s an adrenaline kick I can’t get anywhere else. I’m so, so sorry,” she added, voice breaking and tears forming behind her closed eyes.

 

Foggy shook his head sadly, backing away slightly. “Sorry won’t cut it,” he said firmly, though his voice was breaking. After a pause, he spoke again. “I’ve seen the shit the Devil can do, the shit _you_ can do apparently. Tell me one thing, Matilyn: are you even really blind?”

 

Matilyn’s heart stopped, right then and there. Foggy never used her full name like that. It was always ‘Matt’ or ‘Mattie’, or some sort of pet name. Never ‘Matilyn’. That was when she knew she’d fucked everything up, possibly beyond repair.

 

“...Kind of...” she whispered, hoping he didn’t hear.

 

“What do you mean, ‘kind of’?” Foggy snapped. “How can you be ‘kind of’ blind?”

 

Matilyn launched into an explanation of the accident, and how it affected her senses. Foggy was stone silent the entire time, not saying a word and not moving. Finally, when she was done, Foggy spoke again.

 

“How many fingers am I holding up?” he said coldly, holding his middle finger in front of her face.

 

“One,” Matilyn mumbled, a tear tracking down her bruised cheek. She fucked up, she fucked up _so badly_. She hated hearing Foggy like this, hearing the anger and betrayal in his voice and his heartbeat.

 

Wordlessly, Foggy got up off the ground where he was kneeling and made his way to the door. He left without a word, the door slamming behind him. It was when she heard the door slam that Matilyn finally let herself cry properly, tears staining her face as sobs escaped her lips.

* * *

Matilyn didn’t see Foggy for two weeks. In those two weeks, she hid in her apartment. She didn’t do any patrols, she didn’t go to the office. She just sat on her couch, going over everything that had happened and theorizing how it was going to affect the future. Not just the future of the firm, but Matilyn’s future. She loved Foggy, God did she love Foggy, but he was obviously attracted to Karen, and now he probably hated Matilyn. She didn’t know what she’d do without him, didn’t know how she’d be able to live without his calming presence and cheerful voice.

 

After a week and a half, Matilyn had to go see Claire. Some of her stitches were pulling out, and she should probably get her ribs checked out too. Lying on Claire’s couch, Matilyn was quieter than usual.

 

“Okay, what did you do this time?” Claire sighed, finishing up the stitches on her side. “I haven’t seen you in nearly two weeks, and you show up now with pulled stitches. I know your boyfriend called to ask how to stitch you up, but you should’ve come to me _immediately_ , not now.”

 

Matilyn took a deep breath, minute fear on her face. “It’s more than the stitches...” she muttered. “Something feels.... _wrong_. Well, not wrong, but not... normal?” she rambled anxiously.

 

“Explain,” Claire frowned, eyebrows creasing in concern.

 

“I-I don’t know if I can,” Matilyn admitted. “It just feels like there’s something pressing against my organs. It’s not very big, but I can feel it.”

 

Claire sighed softly in realization, hanging her head for a moment. Matilyn frowned at that.

 

“What?” Matilyn asked expectantly.

 

“Do you have any other symptoms besides that?” Claire asked, wanting to make sure what she was thinking was right.

 

“Uh... Can’t keep food down,” Matilyn frowned in thought, “everything hurts, especially my ankles. I haven’t really noticed anything else,” she admitted.

 

“Matilyn, I need you to be honest with me,” Claire said seriously. “When was the last time you had sex?” she asked bluntly, watching as Matilyn’s face drained from a heated flush to ghost-white in a matter of seconds.

 

“No...” she muttered to herself, eyes wide in realization. “No, no, no,” she repeated desperately.

 

“Reapeat it all you want, but I’m pretty sure you’re pregnant,” Claire sighed. “I can’t be sure without some kind of test, but from what you’ve told me, it looks like you’re going to be a mother.”

 

Matilyn was silent for a while as Claire finished up her stitches. She was in shock. How was she going to raise a kid by herself? Foggy probably wanted nothing to do with her anymore, let alone a kid. He probably hated her. Oh God, what was she going to do?

 

As Claire finished up the last of the stitches, she sighed. “Just tell him,” she muttered, helping Matilyn to her feet. “Figure this out. Be the woman without fear everyone likes to call you.”

 

Matilyn could only nod weakly, climbing back out Claire’s window and returning to her apartment.

 

It took her three days before she called Foggy. He was tense when he entered the apartment, though his heartbeat was calm.

 

“Matilyn,” he said with a sharp nod when the door was closed. “What do you want?” He sounded cold and disconnected, and Matilyn immediately regretted calling him. She could do this on her own.

 

_No_ a tiny voice in the back of her head that sounded like her father said. _You need someone, even if they hate you. Dad didn’t have anyone and you turned out okay, sure, but you need help, Mattie. You can’t do this on your own._

 

Matilyn took a shaky deep breath, making Foggy sit on the couch as she sat in the chair across from it, playing with the hem of her shirt. She could hear the familiar uptick in Foggy’s heartbeat that meant he was concerned, which was a tiny shred of relief. With one more shaky breath, Matilyn finally looked up at what she hoped was Foggy, a determined look on her face that was only diminished by the fear in her eyes.

 

“Fuck it, okay,” she muttered to herself. “I can do this.”

 

“Do what?” Foggy frowned, concerned heartbeat increasing. “Is everything alright? You’re not dying, are you?”

 

Matilyn snorted darkly, shaking her head. “You could make a case for the opposite, actually,” she said, though she sounded anxious. When Foggy made a confused noise, she sighed softly. “Claire... Claire thinks I might be pregnant,” she mumbled, trying her best not to look back down at her lap.

 

Unable to see Foggy’s face, Matilyn wasn’t aware of the sheer spectrum of emotions that crossed it. Concern, panic, realization, and a whole wave of others crossed his face in a matter of moments, his heartbeat switching from concern to full-on pounding like a drum.

 

“Foggy?” Matilyn muttered desperately. “Foggy, say something, please,” she all but begged.

 

Foggy took a deep breath to calm himself down, trying to put his overwhealming thoughts into words. “Are you sure?” he said finally, voice strained.

 

“I... took a few tests that Claire gave me,” Matilyn muttered. “She told me they came up positive.” She sounded so scared, so vulnerable. Foggy wasn’t used to Matilyn being so vulnerable. She was never like this in school, nor when she was out kicking ass. It was disconcerting, so say the least.

 

“Wow, okay...” Foggy breathed, running a hand through his hair. “What are you going to do?” he asked softly, not sounded stiff anymore.

 

“I don’t know,” Matilyn sighed. “I don’t think I could get rid of it,” she admitted softly, finally looking back down at her hands. “I just couldn’t.”

 

Matilyn couldn’t see, but Foggy’s shoulders had slumped at her defeated tone, his face sporting a look of guilt and sympathy.

 

“And that’s your choice, Mattie,” Foggy promised her. “I know we’re not on the best of terms right now, but I want to be there for you. You’re my best friend above all else, and I don’t want my best friend going through this alone.”

 

Matilyn felt tears building in her eyes, just a push away from free-falling down her cheeks. She sniffled slightly, rubbing the heels of her hands against her eyes. She let out a ragged breath that almost sounded like a strangled sob, pulling her hands away from her eyes.

 

“You’re my best friend too, Fog. I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side for this,” she said softly. “I just...” she trailed off, playing with the hem of her shirt again. Foggy realized she was actually wearing one of _his_ shirts.

 

“What?” Foggy prompted gently, not wanting to push her too far.

 

“I just wish things weren’t so shitty between us right now,” Matilyn sighed. “I just want you to be there as the _father_ , not just my best friend.” This was the most honest Matilyn had been with Foggy in a while, all raw emotions and wavering voice. She looked absolutely wrecked, like someone had smashed into her with a wrecking ball a few dozen times. “But you probably hate me, and I know you’re attracted to Karen, and things’ll never go back to the way they were.”

 

“Matilyn Margaret Murdock, you listen here,” Foggy said firmly. “I could never hate you, you damned idiot. Yes, it hurts that you lied to me for so long. No, I don’t hate you. Anger and hate are two different things. As for Karen, where are you getting your information? Karen’s my _friend_.”

 

“Your heart...” Matilyn muttered, motioning in the general direction of Foggy’s chest. “It speeds up whenever you’re talking to Karen. It hasn’t done that around me since the end of our first semester.”

 

Foggy let out a sad chuckle. “Mattie,” he said, getting Matilyn to look up at him. “It does that around Karen because I’m terrible with people. It wasn’t attraction, it was social anxiety. It did that around Marci for the longest time too. It _doesn’t_ for you because I’ve gotten used to you, and the way we act around each other. You’re pretty much my other half. If my head can accept that, so can my heart.”

 

Finally, the tears began falling down Matilyn’s face, so she buried it in the collar of the shirt she’d stolen from Foggy. She curled herself into a little ball on the chair, arms wrapped around her legs as her forehead rested on her knees. Small sobs wracked her lithe frame, breaking Foggy’s heart. He got up off the couch, sitting on the arm of the chair and resting a hand on Matilyn’s lower back, running it up and down her spine to calm her down.

 

Slowly, Matilyn’s sobs turned to sniffles as she uncurled herself, burying her face instead in the crook of Foggy’s neck and wrapping her arms tightly around him.

 

“I love you,” she muttered against his neck. It was the first time either of them had said it. Matilyn had been too scared to say it, and Foggy was trying to work things out in regards to the whole ‘love’ ordeal. He knew where he stood now though, with Matilyn tugging him closer.

 

“I love you too,” Foggy muttered into her hear, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The two fell silent for a while, just staying as close to each other as they could so they could remind themselves that this was real.

 

Eventually, Foggy spoke again, softly into Matilyn’s hair. “Since we’re being honest here, there’s something I should tell you.”

 

“Is everything okay?” Matilyn frowned, nestling closer to Foggy’s side.

 

“Uh, yeah. Everything’s fine,” Foggy assured her. “You know the day I found you? How I was bringing you dinner?” he asked, to which Matilyn nodded. “I had something else with me besides shitty Thai takeout.” Matilyn frowned at that, making a small noise of confusion. “I have it with me now, too,” he went on. “I keep it on me, to remind me how absolutely stupid I am,” he said, using the hand not carding through Matilyn’s hair to reach into his pocket. He pressed a small, velvet-like box into her hand, watching her eyes widen in realization. “This is probably a shitty time for this, but hey, when’s my timing ever been that great?” he joked weakly as Matilyn opened the box. “I was gonna go on a long spiel about our relationship that day, but I’m not going to bother. I just have one thing to say: Matilyn Murdock, will you marry me?” he rambled quietly, waiting for Matilyn’s reaction.

 

As Foggy spoke, Matilyn’s breath caught in her throat. Tears fell down her cheeks again, but this time they were happy tears. “Of course,” she nodded, smiling for the first time in weeks. She took the ring out of the box, getting a feel for the design. Twisted band, not too thin but not too thick. Two small stones set in the centre of a heart. There was something engraved on the inside, in both Braille and regular text. “Avocados,” Matilyn read off, chuckling. “You’re a dork.”

 

“I know I am,” Foggy smiled. “But I’m _your_ dork,” he reminded her as he helped her put on the ring. “By the way, there’s a ruby and an emerald,” he explained. “It was my Mom’s.”

 

“Foggy...” Matilyn muttered, hugging him tightly. “It’s beautiful.”

 

They spent the rest of the night just curled together on the chair, Matilyn drifting off to sleep. She snored softly, like she always did, which Foggy thought was absolutely adorable.


End file.
